“Panthous approached me again. Even
though we could no longer stand each other. I got angry for no reason when
I merely looked at him—narrow, shrunken, wearing the women’s garments of
a priest, and the big head on top. Always the cynical grin. I did not like
people on whom you could smell the fear. He could not bear compassion that
had contempt in it.” (Pg. 114)

“I could not slap his face yet a second
time. Panthous was jealous, spiteful, and sharp-tongued.”
(Pg. 11)